“Get them on their knees,” an electronic voice growls. “On their bloodydamn knees.” Bloodydamn? Ah, shit. As I realize who it is, I let them lift me up to my knees. Hood is removed. The lights are out. Several dozen candles have been set on the shower floor, throwing shadows about the room. Victra’s to my left, eyes furious. Blood coming from her now-crooked nose. Holiday has appeared to my right. Fully clothed but similarly bound, she is carried in by two black-clad figures and forced down on her knees. A big grin splits her face.
Standing around us in the bathroom steam are ten demons with black-painted faces staring out from beneath the mouths of the wolf pelts that hang from their heads to their mid-thighs. Two lean against the wall, in pain from my rabid defense. Beneath the pelt of a bear, Ragnar towers beside Sevro. The Howlers have come for new recruits and they look bloody terrifying.
“Greetings, you ugly little bastards,” Sevro growls, removing the voice synthesizer. He stalks forward through the shadows to stand before us. “It has come to my attention that you are abnormally devious, savage, and generally malicious creatures gifted in the arts of murder, mayhem, and chaos. If I am mistaken, do say so now.”
“Sevro, you scared the shit out of us,” Victra says. “The hell is your problem?”
“Do not profane this moment,” Ragnar says menacingly.
Victra spits. “You broke my nose, you oaf!”
“Technically, I did,” Sevro says. He jerks his head to a lean Howler with Red Sigils on his hands. “Sleepy helped.”
“You little dwarf…”
“You were squirming, love,” Pebble says from somewhere among the Howlers. I can’t tell which she is. Voice resounding off the walls.
“And if you keep talking we’ll just gag you and tickle you,” Clown says sinisterly. “So…shhhh.” Victra shakes her head but keeps her mouth shut. I’m trying not to laugh at the solemnity of the moment. Sevro continues, pacing back and forth before us.
“You have been watched, and now you are wanted. If you accept our invitation to join our brotherhood, you must take an oath to be always faithful to your brothers and sisters. To never lie, never betray those under the cloak. All your sins, all your scars, all your enemies now belong to us. Our burden to share. Your loves, your family will become your second loves, your second family. We are your first. If you cannot abide this, if you cannot conscience this bond, say so now and you may leave.”
He waits. Not even Victra says a word.
“Good. Now, as per the rules set forth in our sacred text…” He holds up a little black book with dog-eared pages and a white howling wolfhead on the front. “…You must be purged of your former oaths and prove your worth before you can take our vows.” He holds up his hands. “So let the Purge begin.”
The Howlers pitch back their heads and howl like maniacs. What comes next is a blur of kaleidoscopic oddities. Music thumps from somewhere. We’re kept on our knees. Hands tied. The Howlers rush forward. Bottles are brought to our lips and we chug as they chant around some weird looping melody that Sevro leads with bawdy aplomb. Ragnar roars with satisfaction when I finish the bottle they bring me. I almost puke then and there. The liquor burns, scouring my esophagus and belly. Victra’s coughing behind me. Holiday just chugs on and the Howlers cheer as she finishes her bottle. We waver there as they surround Victra, chanting as she gasps and tries to finish the liquor. It splashes over her face. She coughs.
“Is that your best, daughter of the Sun?” Ragnar bellows. “Drink!”
Ragnar roars with delight when she finally finishes the swill, coughing and muttering curses. “Bring forth the snakes and the cockroaches!” he shouts.
They chant like priests as Pebble wobbles forward with a bucket. They push us together so we surround the bucket and in the wavering light can see the bottom of it wriggling with life. Thick, shiny cockroaches with hairy legs and wings crawl around a pitviper. I reel back, terrified and drunk as our binds are cut. Holiday’s already reached inside and grabs the snake; she slams it on the floor till it dies.
Victra just stares at the Gray. “What the…”
“Finish the bucket or get the box,” Sevro says.
“What does that even mean?”
“Finish the bucket or get the box! Finish the bucket or get the box!” they chant. Holiday takes a bite of the dead snake, tearing into it with her teeth.
“Yes!” Ragnar bellows. “She has the soul of a Howler. Yes!”
I’m so drunk I can barely see. I reach into the bucket, shivering as I feel the cockroaches crawl over my hand. I snatch one up and jam it into my mouth. It’s still moving. I force my jaw to chew. I’m almost crying. Victra is gagging at the sight of me. I swallow it down and grab her hand and force it into the bucket. She makes a sudden lurching movement, and I’m too slow to realize what it means. Her vomit splashes onto my shoulder. At the smell of it, I can’t hold my own in. Holiday chews on. Ragnar shouts her praises.
By the time we finish the bucket, we’re a huddled pathetic mass of drunk, bug- and guts-covered filth. Sevro’s saying something in front of us. Keeps swaying back and forth. Maybe that’s me. Is he talking? Someone shakes my shoulder from behind. Was I asleep? “This is our sacred text,” my little friend is saying. “You will study this sacred text. Soon you will know this sacred text inside and out. But today, you need know only Howler Rule One.”
“Never bow,” Ragnar says.
“Never bow,” the rest echo and Clown steps forward with three wolfcloaks. Like the fur of the wolves at the Institute, these pelts modulate to their environment and take on a dark hue in the candlelit room. He holds one out for Victra. They free her bonds and she tries to stand, but can’t. Pebble reaches to help her up, but Victra ignores the hand. Tries again and tilts down to a knee. Then Sevro kneels beside her and extends a hand. Looking at it through sweat-soaked hair, Victra snorts out a laugh as she realizes what this is about. She takes his hand, and only with his help can she walk steadily enough to take her cloak. Sevro takes it from Clown and drapes it around her bare shoulders. Their eyes meet and linger for a moment before they move to the side so Holiday can be helped up by Pebble to gain her cloak. Ragnar helps me, draping mine over my shoulders.